


The Space Between

by Crimson Aurora (azneraCarenza)



Series: Chronicles of the Wild [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, I mean it. Lots of potential spoilers, It's more or less the Xenoblade cast loosely put into the BOTW plot, Spoilers for both games, The XBC/BOTW crossover that no one but me asked for, These are mostly setup for the rest of the au not going to lie, but old art so don't judge me too much, but they're fun, drabbles vary in length, now with added art, timeskip scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azneraCarenza/pseuds/Crimson%20Aurora
Summary: Time didn't stop turning after The Great Calamity occurred. Though it seemed that the world was ending, life continued on, and the wait for the promised hero grew ever longer.Some forgot, some waited, and some carried on fighting without them.Assorted drabbles set in a Xenoblade/Breath of the Wild crossover AU, during the hundred years between The Great Calamity and the main plot of BOTW.
Series: Chronicles of the Wild [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919509
Kudos: 8





	1. The Lone Guardian

The Guardian sat alone, as always, resisting the urge to curl up by the blocked-off entrance to the shrine. No matter how tempting it was to seek the shelter from the elements, her duty demanded that she stay alert and keep watch.

Exactly how long she had been residing on the Great Plateau, watching over the powers located there, was hard to say. As the only person there, or at least the only currently sentient person, time was a difficult thing to keep track of, even more so when her head was filled with whispers of the past. All that mattered was the protection of the shrines, until such a time as the hero returned, and no matter how tempted she had been to try and enter the Shrine of Resurrection in the years she’d been waiting, that was outside of her control.

She had only been a child when The Machinist had chosen her as a vessel. A few seconds of separation from her brother had led her into the path of a guardian, and rather than running away, she had chosen to stand her ground. Of course, as a young girl against a killing machine, eventually she’d fallen, but rather than finishing her, the guardian had simply fixed its glowing eye on her face. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in the ruins of an ancient temple, suddenly aware that although she was the only person in the room, she was not alone.

At first, she had been unnerved by the voice in her head, whispering hints of how their world had come to be in the dystopian state that she and her brother had been born into. Gradually, her discomfort had turned to anger, because why would the voice tell her all of these awful things, and yet not release her to put them right again? No matter how many times she approached the edge of the Great Plateau, determined that she would leave and share her knowledge with those who would fight alongside her, she always ended up being turned back to the temple by the voice’s gentle admonitions. She was The Guardian now, bound to her duty, whether she liked it or not.

And so she watched over the shrines, each in rotation, waiting for the day when the hero awoke and came in search of the powers they held. By now, she was accustomed to the life she led, and yet she longed for the day when she would be free to leave this place, to reunite with her brother and join his cause, with the hero by their side.

The scrap in her hand was all that remained of the tapestry she had found in the temple when she’d first been left there, the only physical proof she had of the promise of the hero’s return. What had once been a brightly coloured image woven in the finest silks with golden threads was now just another casualty of the passage of time, and Fiora refused to meet the same fate.


	2. The Cursed Sword

Legend spoke of a weapon, a weapon that could end wars. Such a weapon could only be a fairy tale, or perhaps a miracle, and yet here they were. Standing in front of a platform, in the centre of which was the Master Sword of legend, known by the title of The Monado.

Whether the stories could be real or not, Dunban couldn’t say for sure, but then most said that the Monado couldn’t exist at all. Here, in the heart of the Lost Woods, was proof that at least some of the legend must hold a kernel of truth. Dunban truly wanted to believe that the legends were true, that some sort of divine intervention would be possible through this sword, but in this world there was little room for optimism.

“It’s now or never, Dunban.”

He could always rely on Dickson to ground him in reality, though Dunban knew full well that his friend claimed to be sceptical of the Monado’s power.

“This could be it. Our way to even the odds, even just a little.”

Dickson didn’t comment further, and Dunban kept his eyes focussed on the sword rather than turning to face the pity in the man’s eyes. Despite almost a century of war, Dickson had always managed to remain rational in the face of their imminent destruction by the Great Calamity, but Dunban couldn’t be so detached. Not now, at least.

The Monado almost seemed to call to him, nearly glowing against the surrounding foliage, like the red heart of the forest. Before he really knew what he was doing, he had taken a step towards it, and despite Dickson trying to warn him off, Dunban continued towards the sword. Before he could touch it, though, an unfamiliar voice broke him from his trance.

“You are not the one that I expected to see.”

It took him a moment to identify the source of the voice, but it was difficult to ignore the face that had appeared within the twisting branches of the great tree in front of them once he had seen it.

“Perhaps not, but the Hero of Legend has yet to appear, and with this sword, the future would be ours for the taking.”

The tree’s expressions were difficult to identify, but there was suddenly a strong feeling of disapproval in the air, almost as if the forest itself was bearing down on him.

“You are determined to have it, then? The sword intended only for the chosen knight?”

“If I thought that there was another way, I would gladly leave this weapon behind.”

Perhaps Dunban might once have sought to be the gloried chosen knight, but not anymore. It had been less than a year since his sister had been lost to him, just another casualty of this never-ending Calamity, and yet one that his heart hadn’t been prepared to take. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was Fiora’s silhouette against the beam of light from the eye of a Guardian, and since that day he had sworn to end the war at any cost. The cycle of loss had to end, before there was no one left.

“I see that I cannot change your mind, but I must warn you to take extreme caution. The sword stands as a test to anyone who would dare attempt to possess it. I cannot say whether you would be judged worthy or not.”

This time, the voice of the great tree seemed a little softer, the atmosphere less oppressive, almost as if it could sense his grief. Perhaps, in this place, that was truly possible, or perhaps it was just his imagination, but his determination must have been plain.

“I have to try.”

“Then if you hope to pull the sword from its resting place, you must use your true strength. Let us see whether or not you possess this power.”

Dunban reached out for the handle, almost without thinking, but then he was once again returned to reality by his companion. Dickson had come up behind him, and placed his hand on Dunban’s shoulder, almost as if the man planned to restrain him.

“Dunban, what’re you playing at? This could get you killed.”

“I may die if I take a chance here. But trying gives us the chance to change our destinies.”

He heard his friend sigh, but then Dickson reluctantly removed his hand, freeing Dunban to move forward if he chose to do so.

“You’ll need someone to drag your corpse home, then.”

“As long as you think you’ve still got the strength in you, old man.”

He finally turned back to face Dickson, for the first time since entering the clearing, to see his friend smiling faintly. Perhaps it was more of a strained grimace, but it was enough to show his support, and for that, Dunban was grateful.

“And what say you, Mumkhar? You’ve been awfully quiet-”

Looking around, Dunban finally noticed that the third member of their party was no longer beside Dickson, and for a moment he was worried. Then, as if the spirits of the forest had noted his concern, the man stumbled through the trees at the edge of the area, looking wildly around him until he spotted the two of them.

“And where were you two? I thought I was going to die in that godforsaken forest.”

The lost woods had been something of a trial, but Dunban and Dickson had navigated them relatively easily. He couldn’t say for sure, but somehow he felt that the forest itself had kept Mumkhar away until now. It was a thought easily discarded, however, as he smiled at his friend.

“Well, here you are. We finally found it, Mumkhar.”

Mumkhar’s eyes focussed on the Monado, and it was as if he couldn’t tear his gaze from it. Considering that Mumkhar had been the most resistant to putting in the work to find the sword of legend, that surprised Dunban a little, but then the sight would likely entrance any man touched by the war. It was one of the few hopes that they had left to sustain them in these dark times, and Dunban knew that he had to take this chance. He ignored Mumkhar’s questioning, instead stepping up to the platform and kneeling before the Monado. As his hand closed around the handle of the sword, the great tree spoke one last time, with a tone speaking of sadness.

“Best of luck, young one.”

Dunban nodded to the tree spirit, then fixed his eyes back onto the weapon. He may not have been the chosen knight, but he was willing to try. In the name of his people, and more than that, for the memory of his sister, he had to at least try.

“Vile Calamity. If you think that we, the people of Hyrule, are just waiting here for you to pick us off… You are sorely mistaken!”

With that declaration, he focussed all of his strength on pulling the sword from its resting place, no matter how much it felt as if that strength was being slowly drained away. He could still hear the voices of his friends, yet it seemed as if they were fading into the distance.

His last thought, before everything faded for good, was of Fiora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These drabbles aren't necessarily in chronological order. This one takes place roughly 20 years in the past.  
> Also, if you recognised some of the dialogue here, quite a bit of it is from the XBC prologue. It seemed appropriate.


	3. A Hero Awakens

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t tell where he was. For a moment, that concerned him, but he was quickly realising that his mysterious location may be the least of his problems.

He had tried to remember how he had come to be there, but he couldn’t recall any events that might have led him to this place. Not only that, but he couldn’t remember anything at all, not even who he was, which was far more concerning. Just when he was on the edge of panic, he suddenly became aware of a faint whisper that seemed to reverberate throughout the whole room.

“Shulk…”

Something about the word seemed familiar, and before he really knew what he was doing, he had shakily stood up, and begun searching for the source of the voice.

“Shulk…!”

Despite the fact that there was no obvious cause of the whispering, it had only grown more insistent in repetition. As it whispered on, somewhere in the back of his mind something finally came together. Shulk was his name, or at least he thought that was the case. For now, he could at least cling to that one fact as he began to search more seriously for the voice, or failing that, for the way out.

“Who are you…? Where are you?”

“Look at the light, Shulk.”

Though he still couldn’t see any source of the sound, he could see what appeared to be a small pedestal with a glowing surface, which was presumably the light he was being directed to. As he approached, he could see what looked almost like the hilt of a sword sticking out of it, and almost instinctively he reached out for it. Despite the strangeness of his situation, and the fact that he really didn’t know what he was doing or whether there were risks he should be watching for, he wrapped his hand around the hilt and smoothly pulled the object out of the pedestal.

For a moment, all he could really do was stare at the sword-shaped object as he tried to take it all in. The soft blue glow coming from what appeared to be some sort of display seemed almost too bright in the darkness of wherever he was, but it also allowed him to see the other details. The orange vein-like structures built into it, something that looked like an eye in the hilt, and faint shadows along the middle of the not-quite-a-blade that he somehow knew must be a sign that it would split if used correctly.

“That is a replica monado. It will help guide you after your long slumber.” 

As soon as the voice stopped speaking, a rumbling sound filled the room, and Shulk looked up to see a series of stone pillars sinking into the ground, revealing a doorway into another chamber. This one was at least better lit, with a couple of dusty chests seemingly abandoned there. He hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure whether anyone would turn up to claim them later, but the thickness of the layer of dust coating the tops of the things convinced him to take the risk. In the end, the only contents were a basic top and trousers, made of fabric that looked old enough to be a little disintegrated in places, but they would do until he could find something else. From there, he once again tried to find a way out, but what he assumed to be the exit was once again blocked by the same kind of strange pillars that had barred his exit from the previous room. In front of these pillars was another pedestal, similar to the one that had held the replica monado, and he could only assume that it was in some way linked to the exit.

“Hold the replica monado up to the pedestal. That will show you the way.”

It seemed that his instincts had been correct, and so he took the last few steps towards the pedestal, and held out the strange blade he had found. The replica monado seemed to respond to it, almost humming with energy as he held it closer, and as he touched it to the surface, the world melted away in a flash of blue light.

What followed next was something he couldn’t explain, so he supposed he could add that to every other experience he’d had since waking up. This was different, though, and somehow felt more important than anything he couldn’t remember. Flashing images, each of a different place and a different person, never quite focussed enough for him to guess at their identities and yet clear enough that he could recognise who they represented. A pair of Zora warriors, a Korok wielding a spiked weapon, a young Gerudo girl with a guard watching over her, a Rito Lady bathed in light. Finally, the images came to an end, with the last showing a Hylian man reaching for something the same shape as the replica monado, but shining bright red-

As suddenly as it had occurred, the vision faded away, leaving Shulk even more disoriented than he had been before. Apparently it wasn’t enough that he had no memories of his own life, and now there were so many more questions to be answered. Who were those people, and why were they so important?

Before he could think any more on the subject, the pedestal he was still holding the replica monado against glowed blue, softer than the light that had brought in the vision but bright enough to catch his attention. Then a familiar rumbling noise began, and as the pillars blocking the exit lowered into the ground, daylight began to stream into the chamber.

Shulk was awake, and the time had come to begin the search for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this today because Age of Calamity is finally here! Hope it won't mess up my AU plans too much.  
> This is the last chapter I already had written, so not sure when i'll be able to post next, but I will finish it eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU started as part of a crossover event between the Xenoblade and Zelda aminos quite a while ago, and basically just got out of hand. I have a lot planned for the au, and despite not having worked on it for a while the announcement of the Age of Calamity game is motivating me to continue it, so I'm posting what stories I have so far. If you want to see more, there's some minor extra content on my Xenoblade amino page, where I'm Crimson Aurora.


End file.
